The Sexuality Investigation
by theSHORTS
Summary: "Fascinating". That is all Sheldon Cooper thought upon receiving his first kiss from a woman, Amy Farrah Fowler. Why didn't he feel how he had always supposed he would feel? Why had his experience left him unsatisfied and questioning?  Sheldon/MaleOC
1. The Unexpected Smooch Experiment

Author's Note #1: I do not own "The Big Bang Theory", the characters, situations in aired episodes, or the like. I own only original characters and situations. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Note #2: The bulk of this scene is transcribed from Season 4, Episode 21 "The Agreement Dissection".

"How come, if we're the smart people, we don't do this every night?" Amy Farrah Fowler stumbled toward the door to her small apartment, becoming momentarily distracted as her hip hit a wooden stand in the floor's hallway. She jangled her keys, searching for one that would work the bolt mechanism to her place.

"What's sixteen times fourteen?" Sheldon Cooper asked, already sensing Amy's impending failure.

Amy looked back, pausing in her task of unlocking her front door. Her swaying stance betrayed her lack of sobriety, as did the sly grin teasing on her lips. In a voice deceivably sweetly innocent, like the taste of the Cosmos she had indulged in, came her response.

"My burps taste like cranberry juice."

Sheldon merely nodded, pursing his lips in silent criticism. "And, there's your answer."

Amy's hand stayed on the doorknob, her balance still visibly precarious.

"Would you like to come in for a nightcap?" she offered, hopeful that their night would not end, especially when she doubted she would be able to recall even half of it the next morning.

"If you're referring to the beverage: no, I don't drink," Sheldon replied, maintaining his professional composure. "If you're referring to the hat you don while wearing a nightshirt and holding a candle: I have one."

"I have Yoo-Hoo."

A childlike, but amused, smile crept onto Sheldon's steely face. For a moment, the cold, calculating air of CalTech's leading theoretical physicist and second youngest awardee of the MacArthur Grant faded, revealing his penchant for the frivolity he allowed to lightly color his life.

"It's hard to say no to Yoo-Hoo," he relented, his posture lightening. "The name literally beckons."

"Make yourself comfortable," Amy greeted, finally opening the door to let them into her apartment. She unceremoniously flung her handbag onto a nearby chair as she strode over to the kitchen, no longer fearing what would happen to her in her drunken state. After all, she was home, and she had Sheldon Cooper with her. The man could outsmart anyone, and while he may not be much physical protection, his intellect still made her feel secure, perhaps because Amy's was hindered by ounces upon ounces of vodka.

Sheldon closed the door, twirling to do so.

"Thank you." His nice scrunched as the noxious aroma of burning tobacco assaulted his nostrils. "Is someone smoking?" he asked curiously; he knew for a fact that Amy lived alone, and she did not engage in questionable behavior such as smoking.

"Oh, that's just Ricky," Amy revealed, pointing to a desk. A small capuchin monkey sat upon the wood surface, an ashtray brimming with smoldering butts next to him. In his paw was clutched a lit cigarette. He brought the tobacco to his lips and inhaled as Sheldon stared in amazement.

"You own a smoking monkey?" He did not know what he was more amazed by: the fact that Amy owned a monkey, the fact that the monkey smoked, or the fact that Amy could stand even a second in a room that reeked of his great-uncle Leroy's living room.

Amy opened the door to her refrigerator, fetching two bottles of the chocolate drink she had promised her friend. Her face bore a look of mild exasperation.

"Don't be silly. He's one of the animals in my department's nicotine addiction study."

The money let out a long stream of smoke. Sheldon looked on disapprovingly.

"What's he doing here?" he accused. Always one for strict adherence to policy, except of course when it inconvenienced him, Sheldon did not like the thought of his friend harboring a laboratory animal in her apartment. He was certain that was against university policy, if not the building and health codes.

"I'm giving him emphysema. The least I can do is let him hang out and watch cable," Amy shrugged, as if this was part of some widely accepted logic.

"Remarkable," Sheldon said, as Amy busied herself pouring him a glass of Yoo-Hoo. He strode over to the creature, hands clutched behind his back, brows furrowed as they were when he analyzed any situation, whether academic or social. "Aren't you worried about second-hand smoke?"

"A little," Amy admitted, her face showing her lack of concern "The real danger is him biting my face off while I'm sleeping." She turned and replaced the bottle of Yoo-Hoo in her refrigerator.

Sheldon turned back to the monkey, bending forward to examine him more closely. The monkey looked Sheldon directly in the eye and puffed out a cloud of foul smoke. Coughing, Sheldon retreated.

"Is he deliberately blowing smoke at me?"

Amy gazed at the monkey, half amused.

"Yeah. He's kind of an ass." She presented Sheldon with the glass of chocolate milk, which he took from her, grateful she had adhered to the social paradigm of offering one's guest a beverage. "Thank you."

The capuchin chirped.

"May I share something with you that's troubling me?" Sheldon began, making his way over to Amy's couch, placing himself upon it with his friend beside him.

"Of course! What's rattling around in that big, bulbous brain of yours?" Amy asked, her drunken state still noticeable. She rested her face on her hand and concentrated on keeping eye contact with Sheldon. In all honesty, she was thinking more about the fact that he was the first man to be in her bedroom since the superintendant came around checking everyone's smoke detectors (from which she had removed the batteries since the monkey moved in).

Sheldon eyed Amy warily, unsure if Amy was able to keep up with a delicate conversation topic.

"Priya has essentially nullified my roommate agreement with Leonard, making life in the apartment very uncomfortable for me," Sheldon said, his distaste in his roommate Leonard's choice for a girlfriend. The last thing he needed was a lawyer that worked against him.

"And you want me to kill her?" Amy inquired. "DONE," she exclaimed, without hesitation.

"No! Of course not," exclaimed Sheldon, though his tone was hardly believeable. Not that he condoned murder, but it would be a rather large inconvenience to have the police in his and Leonard's apartment while they investigated. Not to mention the fact that Leonard would likely need round the clock comfort, and there was only so much tea he could make.

"I trained Ricky how to smoke, I can train him to shoot a poison dart," Amy offered, signaling the nicotine-addicted monkey. "No jury would convict us 'cause people love monkeys." She emphasized the last few words.

Sheldon was growing impatient.

"I understand the alcohol has stirred up whatever it is that makes girls go wild, but I really need to talk to Smart Amy now."

Ricky chattered hyperactively, jumping on Amy's table.

"Excuse me," Amy stood from her place next to Sheldon, grabbing a pack of Lights on her coffee table. She packed the tobacco expertly, having done this more than enough times at the CalTech's neurobiology lab. "Have you considered that your intelligence could be the very thing causing your dilemma?"

Ricky took the cigarette Amy offered.

Amy sauntered back to the couch to try and clarify her hypothesis. Sheldon's face bore with it the same look of confusion as when Howard Wollowitz informed him "Silicylic acid would do wonders for your skin" was not what they had meant by "Give the barista a tip".

"No," Sheldon conceded.

"Well, what do you think Ricky over here would do if an interloper encroached on his territory?"

"Well," Sheldon began, recalling what he had read about primates back in the second grade while all of the other children chose to amuse themselves with a caterpillar who apparently had quite the voracious appetite, "When challenged, monkeys generally assert their dominance through chasing, assault, and a stylized penile display. That's a little outside of my comfort zone."

"You're being too literal," Amy said. "My point is, he would not meekly surrender to the rules, and neither should you." She punctuated her sentence with a prod to Sheldon's chest.

"Are you suggesting I play dirty?" Sheldon was bemused by the thought of lowering his standard to those of Priya Kuthrapali, but there was a small part of him that wondered if Amy could, in fact, have a point.

Amy nodded.

"Yes, dirty." She laced a finger through her golden brown hair, twirling it seductively, as she had seen her best friend Penny do at the bar that night. "Dirty…dirty…dirty."

Sheldon studied her quizzically. He had no idea what those drinks had done to Amy, but she was not the neurobiologist he knew.

"Which brings me to my next order of business," she slurred. Amy Farrah Fowler leaned forward, not giving Sheldon a moment to back away or hesitate. She closed her eyes and planted her lips firmly upon his, reveling in their contact for the slightest of instances. That single second translated into months of wondering, impatience, and questioning. That moment made her feel less in control of her mind than the Absolut and Ocean Spray concoctions she had downed too many of.

Sheldon's unwavering façade did not relent.

"Fascinating," was all he said.

Amy felt her body tingle, her head swim, and her stomach do sommersault after sommersault after sommersault. She felt her stomach churn and twist, lossen and tighten. Amy felt pressure on her throat, and she knew this was not she would have normally reacted after kissing Sheldon Cooper. This reaction was not emotional; it was physiological.

"I hope you don't take what I'm about to do as a comment on what we just did."

Amy sprang from the couch and bolted to her bathroom. Sheldon stared after her, knowing less about what had happened to Amy now that he did just thirty seconds before. He knew alcohol could affect people in surprising ways, after all, he had woken up sans pants after an awards night and did not remember a single minute of the night, despite the humiliating videos Leonard and Penny had shown him. Still, being sober while Amy was not made this a new experience. Perhaps Amy should consider herself in her addiction study, he mused.

The sound of Amy retching travelled into the living room. Sheldon got up to check on his friend, now genuinely worried, but still disappointed that a scientist of her caliber had succumbed to alcohol's call.

"Who's to say you shouldn't be dissecting our brains?" Sheldon muttered to Ricky. The monkey responded by shooting a puff of smoke at Sheldon. "You really are an ass," Sheldon admonished.

Sheldon figured he would stay a few more minutes until Amy finished expelling whatever was left of their small dinner.

"Amy?" he called, "Are you all right? Would you like me to prepare a hot beverage?"

"No, no," Amy called, her voice still strained from her nausea. "Okay, yes."

"Very well," he said, striding into the kitchen. Sheldon opened two cupboards before finding the tea. He filled the kettle with fresh water and set it on the stove, setting the burner on HIGH. From the sink, he grabbed a white mug with pink daisies painted on it and washed it. Sheldon looked back at Ricky, who had taken a seat on the tan couch and began flipping through the channels on Amy's television.

The kettle whistled a piercing tune, cutting into the relative quiet of the night. Quiet. Sheldon noticed the lack of horrendous retching coming from the bathroom.

"Amy?" he called.

"Yes?"

"Oh, thank goodness," he sighed.

Amy shuffled from the bathroom, her hair in disarray. She sat upon a stool at her kitchen, resting her head on her hands.

"Here," Sheldon slid a mug of steaming tea in front of her. "Peppermint tea. The Menthol will help soothe you."

"Thank you, Shelly," Amy uttered.

Sheldon rolled his eyes. Only his mother had permission to call him "Shelly". He supposed he could let it slide, as Amy was not in her right mind. But, just once.

Sheldon took the empty mug out of Amy's hands and set it in the empty sink.

"Come on. Bed," he ordered.

Amy relented, forcing herself out of the stool, into a swaying, upright position. Sheldon moved to her right, placing an arm securely around her, so that she would not end up napping on her floor.

"Let's go," he whispered. He and Amy slowly made their way down the hall and into her dark bedroom. This was the first time he had seen Amy's bedroom; it felt minimally wrong. After all, he did not technically have her consent to be in here. A friend's safety is more important that technicalities, he supposed. Sheldon helped Amy to her bed. She sat down, still bleary from all the alcohol being metabolized in her system. Sheldon gently pushed her upper body down, setting her head on a soft pillow in a white pillowcase. He then hoisted her legs up onto the bed, taking her shoes off after. Sheldon looked around the room and noticed a pink, white, yellow, and green quilt folded on an armchair in the corner. He picked it up and unfolded it, covering Amy's body with it.

"Soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur…"

He tucked the blanket in around her, adjusting the smaller pillows for maximum comfort.

"Happy kitty, sleepy kitty, purr, purr, purr…"

Sheldon stood back up, a soft grin on his face. Who said he could not be sympathetic. He simply chose not to be, most of the time.

"Good night, Amy Farrah Fowler," he whispered.

"Guh nigh…Shelly," Amy mumbled.


	2. The Emotional Deficiency

**Author's Note #1:** I do not own "The Big Bang Theory", the characters, situations in aired episodes, or the like. I own only original characters and situations. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note #2:** Despite what the first chapter may have led you to believe, this will not be a Shamy fic. At least, not in the traditional sense. Amy Farrah Fowler will indeed express interest in Sheldon Cooper, and I will delve into her feelings for him. However, as the title suggests, this story is about Sheldon exploring the possibility of homosexuality.

_Fascinating_.

Why wasn't he feeling what everyone else felt?

_Fascinating_.

Did that actually happen?

_Fascinating_.

Where was the emotion? Where were the butterflies? Why wasn't he weak in the knees?

Fascinating…

Sheldon sat up on the couch for hours, dressed in a set of matching blue and periwinkle striped pajamas. Sleep eluded him, as did everything that was supposed to make sense regarding his encounter with Amy at her apartment that night.

He took a sip from his mug of steaming cocoa. Sheldon would have made tea, but everything swirling around his already busy mind was unfamiliar and unpleasant. Cocoa reminded him of his meemaw. It was as if he were drinking her hugs. Sadly, her wisdom was missing in his silent apartment in Pasadena, California. Leonard was out, spending the night at Rajesh's apartment with Priya. Tonight, it was only Sheldon Cooper, countless action figures in various poses, and his thoughts.

It was scary being with his thoughts.

Sheldon was still not accustomed to thinking about other people much. He was not a social creature, as so many claimed humans were. He grew up tormented by his older brother and twin sister in Texas, with only his mother as comfort. His late father, bless his soul, was always patient with him but there was a certain lack of familiarity in their relationship. His meemaw was a rare treat in his life. She did not take much notice in his intellect, something he found wonderfully refreshing. She was not threatened by it as his siblings, Missy and George, had always been (hence the teasing). She was not perplexed by him, as his parents had been. Meemaw simply was. She listened. She laughed. She loved.

Sheldon sighed and clutched the mug of chocolate tighter, his knuckles turning an angry white. He too a deep breath, letting the rich aroma of the warm drink flood his senses, triggering thoughts of his grandmother.

There was absolutely no making sense of this new dilemma. Nothing, not any of his readings, nor any of the lectures he had attended, not even the doctorate he earned, could have prepared him to face the gaping abyss of uncertainty and unknowing. With every though came dozens more. With every answer, many more evaded his grasp of knowledge. A man of science, he was not used to pondering a great deal about social interactions, much less emotions. He never felt he had much use for many emotions, save ones that were directly related to his contentment. However, if there was something that irked him to the core of his being it was not knowing. And now, he did not know.

Sheldon had always heard of love, of infatuation, of lust. He placed little importance in this aspect of life as he believed he had better things to worry about that choosing a mate. He tried to be supportive whenever one of his friends had expressed interest in someone, but nothing appealed to him. He remembered every conversation he had had with Leonard, and how his best friend described women so eloquently, with a voice of longing. He recalled how Howard had talked about sexuality and the intensity that was associated with it. He noted the desire in his voice, the primal memories Howard had tried to do justice with mere English words. Sheldon had no such interests. Even when Raj talked about how pitifully pathetic his love life had been, unsatisfied in its stagnancy, Sheldon did not once take the time to think that he had experienced far less. He had never touched that side of the human spectrum.

Until tonight.

Ignorance was a frustrating feeling, as Sheldon had learned early in his life. Hence, he had made it his quest to learn as much as he could about the universe, which then led to his love of physics. For, with physics, one knows how it all works.

Except emotions.

Or the lack thereof.

_I don't know._ He murmured to himself. _I don't know. I…don't know._

This agony was not likely to go away any time soon. There was no one that could help him understand why he felt to apathetic. Why he didn't feel, even when he knew he should. No one could explain why Amy Farrah Fowler's lips did not cause within him the longing he experienced through Leonard, the lust he lived through Howard, or the loneliness he knew through Raj.

No one could explain why he could not connect the romantic gesture to the romantic feeling. No one could explain why he didn't feel this way.

One person might be able to help.

Sheldon knew once the idea sparked in his mind, there was one person with whom he could be completely candid. There was a single soul who would understand the complex simplicity and simple complexity of emotion. He knew of one friend who could help him understand the laws of attraction, the mystique of sexuality, the unclear nature of love.

He wrenched his tall frame from the leather couch and shuffled out of his shared apartment, a few feet down the hall.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Penny."

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Penny."

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Penny."

A minute's silence passed before Sheldon could hear the trudging of steps inside the neighboring apartment. In the crack beneath the door he saw a sliver of warm yellow light come to life before the sound of a chain rattling caught his attention.

The blonde, bleary eyed woman opened the door and stared at Sheldon, her face an amalgamation of annoyance and wondering.

"Sheldon, what the hell is wrong with you? It's three in the morning. If you woke me up and you're not about to die I'll kill you myself," Penny hoarsed.

"Actually, it's two forty-seven," Sheldon whispered.

"Sheldon, this really isn't the time to be nitpicky. Not at three in the morning."

"Two forty-seven."

Penny shot him a dangerous look.

"Anyway, not the point," he quickly corrected, not wanting to anger his only solution to the raging mess inside his head. "I have a problem."

"What is it, Sheldon?" Penny asked, stifling a yawn.

"I'm not in love with Amy Farrah Fowler."


	3. The Alternative Sexuality Proposal

**Author's Note #1:** I do not own "The Big Bang Theory", the characters, situations in aired episodes, or the like. I own only original characters and situations. No copyright infringement is intended.

Penny watched as Sheldon sipped the warm honey and chamomile concoction from a blue patterned ceramic mug. Being Sheldon Cooper's neighbor, she had learned to always have tea and honey stocked in her pantry, just in case he had a manic episode in the middle of the night. That is precisely what had happened tonight.

"All right, Sheldon, tell me again what happened."

A lightly exasperated sigh escaped Sheldon Cooper's thin lips. He had explained his dilemma twice to Penny, and his patience was wearing thin. However, he himself did not know how to approach this problem, so perhaps it was best not to antagonize her.

"I was in Amy Farrah Fowler's apartment, explaining how Leonard's girlfriend had rendered our roommate agreement all but useless due to her overly litigious nature, when she kissed me. On the mouth."

Penny furrowed her brow in thought as she had done the previous two times Sheldon had shared his minimalistic story. She tried to piece as much as she could about the context and implications of the kiss, but from the limited information she had it was difficult to come up with something satisfactory.

"Okay," she mused. Penny had figured Amy held some romantic feelings for Sheldon early on in the two women's friendship. Amy often brought up anecdotes from her days with Sheldon, and a giddy smile surfaced on Amy's face whenever she received a text message from him. Bernadette had sensed something, too, as Penny knew. The two of them had discussed "Shamy", as the couple had been christened, and came to conclusion that there was some chemistry between the pair. However, neither of them knew whether Sheldon was aware of Amy's crush, or if he was even interested in her.

"Okay? This is most certainly not 'okay'," Sheldon said, his voice steady but becoming more frantic.

"Okay," Penny repeated. Sheldon's shoulder's slumped slightly. "And…your problem is?"

"I told you," he retorted. "Dear Lord, I could have done better Googling my questions." 

"Sheldon, I'm sorry, but I still don't understand the issue here!"

"The issue is that I am not in love with Amy Farrah Fowler!" Sheldon nearly shouted. "She kissed me and I am not in love with her. She is my friend who happens to be a girl, but she is most certainly not my girlfriend."

"Sweetie," Penny started, attempting to be patient, as she knew Sheldon had little regard for emotions that were not his own, "Amy doesn't have to be your girlfriend to kiss you; Amy kissed me tonight, too, remember? Hell, if I had a dollar for every guy I've kissed while drunk—"

"I'm sure you would never be late on your rent again," Sheldon quipped. Penny shot him a murderous glare. "Continue," he nodded.

"Anyway, my point is that you don't have to be in love with someone, or even in a relationship with them in order to kiss them," Penny finished.

"I know that," Sheldon said. He took another sip from his mug, relishing in the light floral notes accented by the decadence of clover honey. "What I don't understand is why I didn't feel anything when she kissed me."

"Well, maybe it just caught you off guard?" Penny queried.

"No, no. That can't be it. I've had ample time to mull it over and I still do not feel a romantic attachment to that kiss."

"Meaning…" Penny asked.

"Meaning that I do not wish it to repeat," Sheldon explained. "Countless books perused out of curiosity at Barnes and Noble and articles skimmed in _Psychology Today_ have taught me that romantic attraction to an action leads to one's desire for the action or situation to repeat itself. For example, if someone kisses you and you have a romantic connection with the person, in whatever stage the relationship may be, you will more often than not want that action or situation to happen again. I do not particularly wish to be kissed by Amy Farrah Fowler again." 

"So…" Penny said, deciphering the slew of words Sheldon had nervously spit out, "You're saying Amy's a bad kisser?"

"No. I don't feel I have the qualifications to make that statement. She was the first person to kiss me that way. I don't have enough experience with that to make a accurate judgement," Sheldon dismissed. He looked at Penny. "You're vastly more experienced than I am, what did you think?"

Penny rolled her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I…don't know. I don't think Amy's a lesbian. I'm not a lesbian. That kiss didn't mean anything. Besides, we were both pretty buzzed."

Penny fingered the rim of her own mug, pondering the information Sheldon had shared, as well as what she knew of Amy.

"Maybe you're just not attracted to her?" Penny guessed after a few minutes' silence.

"I don't see why I shouldn't be," Sheldon replied. "Amy Farrah Fowler is an accomplished neurobiologist and holds a high regard for practicality in the face of modern social norms. I like that."

"Yes, but sweetie, just because you like the qualities someone has doesn't mean you'll be attracted to them," Penny clarified. "I mean, I like how you're so smart and quirky, but that doesn't mean I'm attracted to you."

"I suppose," Sheldon uttered. "But, when a man likes the qualities he sees in a woman, and said woman kisses him, it usually leads to a romantic relationship. I don't think I want that from Amy."

"Sheldon, that's not always the case," Penny said, placing her hand on his knee.

"I don't know if I want that kind of romantic relationship at all," he confessed quietly.

"What?" Penny asked.

"I said, I don't know if I want that kind of romantic relationship at all," Sheldon repeated louder.

"No, I heard you," Penny shook her head. "I mean, what do you mean by that?"

"I don't think I want that kind of relationship. A romantic relationship like that. I don't think I would or could ever take a wife," Sheldon said, his voice quavering the slightest bit.

Penny looked into Sheldon's eyes. In them, she saw an emotion she had rarely seen in the man, one that she figured few had ever seen in him with the exception of the Cooper family. Penny doubted Leonard had even seen this pallid shade color Sheldon's eyes and face. In Dr. Sheldon Cooper's eyes, Penny saw fear.

"Sheldon," she whispered, unsure of how to touch the subject. She knew a strong religious woman, devout in her faith, had raised her friend but she also knew that for all of Mary Cooper's Bible-thumping, Sheldon refused to follow Christian tenets. "Maybe, you're not meant for a wife."

"You mean I should be alone?" he asked. The fear had returned. For all of Sheldon's misanthropy, there was still a small part of him that wished for a closer, personal relationship. Maybe even a family, someday…

"Well, no," Penny continued, "Maybe you're not meant for a wife. Maybe, you're meant for a husband?"

A look of utter shock took over Sheldon's usually composed visage. His eyebrows knitted together, considering the deep implications of Penny's suggestion and they would mean for his life. His mind muddled over what this realization would bring, not only for himself but for his family. Most of all, Sheldon thought of his mother.

"I hadn't considered that…"


	4. The Glitter Criterion

**Author's Note #1:** I do not own "The Big Bang Theory", the characters, situations in aired episodes, or the like. I own only original characters and situations. No copyright infringement is intended.

"Sheldon, sweetie, what do you mean?" Penny asked, feeling slightly relieved that Sheldon had not reacted immediately negatively toward her suggestion.

"I hadn't thought of the possibility that I may not conform to the expected heterosexual model," Sheldon said, his mind racing to piece together what he could and investigate what he did not know. "Of course, I've never conformed to expectations, I always exceed them. However, this…this is certainly interesting."

"It is?" Penny asked. She still was not sure how Sheldon felt about the possibility that he could be gay, or even about the fact that she had brought it up. Sheldon could be hard to read, sometimes.

"It is. This adds a whole array of new lenses with which to view things," Sheldon took a careful sip of chamomile tea, feeling the hot amber liquid warm his insides which had become unusually cold.

"Wait wait wait. So…you _are_ gay?"

"I don't know," Sheldon quirked an eyebrow. "Am I?"

"I don't know, honey, I asked you," Penny said, still looking intently at her friend for any sign that could give her the slightest hint at his mental state.

"Well, let's look at this scientifically," Sheldon said, perking up in his spot on Penny's couch. "What are the criteria for a man qualifying as homosexual?"

"Sheldon, you can't go at this like it's a set of rules you have to follow, or some guidelines you have to fit," Penny said. She set her own drink down and laced her fingers together.

"Why not? It's the best approach to any problem or question. You develop a series of tests and standards and observe to see if your subject fits into these."

"Oy," Penny sighed. "Sheldon, you can't narrow sexuality like that. I mean, look at me. I dated Leonard, and he doesn't fit the description of guys I usually date."

"Yes, hence your sham of a relationship," Sheldon nodded.

Penny rolled her eyes, biting her tongue so as not to verbally lash out at Sheldon Cooper. She thought for a minute for an example she could use to explain to Sheldon how he could tell if he was gay without comparing himself to just one set of describers of gay men.

"Okay, here goes," Penny said, clapping her hands. "Do you like pink?"

"I don't dislike it," Sheldon answered.

"Do you like Madonna, Cher, Liza Minelli, Bette midler, Britney Spears, or Lady Gaga?" Penny continued.

"I don't care much for mainstream music, or any music for that matter," Sheldon replied." My mother listened to Barry Manilow and Barbara Streisand, mostly. I didn't particularly like anything."

"All right, well do you like glitter?"

"Glitter?" Sheldon repeated, looking amazed that Penny would even suggest such a thing. "I despise glitter. It gets all over everything and it's murder to clean up. Plus, what if you accidentally inhale some?"

"Do you like being sassy?"

"I do pride myself on my wit." Sheldon allowed himself a self-satisfied smirk. His practical jokes and sarcastic quips were well-known by his group of friends, as was his catchphrase, "Bazinga". It was one of the rare times anyone saw him be a kidder.

"Okay, Sheldon, here's the big question," Penny rubbed her hands together, emphasizing the importance of what she was about to ask. "Do…you…like…men?"

"What?" Sheldon asked, his head jerking in a confused manner.

"Do you like men? D'ya dig guys? Do you prefer dudes?"

"I…don't know," Sheldon admitted. "I never had much time for that."

"For what?" Penny asked, "Sex?"

"Yes, precisely. Coitus remains one of the few subjects that eludes the grasp of my vast knowledge," Sheldon said, his voice expressive of weariness.

"Sheldon, have you ever had sex?" Penny pressed on, curious to know if how far into his own sexuality he had explored.

"No," Sheldon immediately said, without further explanation.

"Was Amy the first person to ever kiss you?" she pushed.

"Of course not," Sheldon scoffed, "My mother kissed me good night every night. And I would always get kisses from my Meemaw. She used to call them moonkissies. Because I'm her MoonPie."

"That's…not what I meant," Penny muttered. "Was Amy the first person to kiss you who isn't related to you?"

"In that case, yes," Sheldon quipped.

"Oh, sweetie," Penny crooned comfortingly. She reached forward and took one of Sheldon's hands in hers, stroking the unusually cold, alabaster skin with her thumb. "No wonder you're so confused. You don't have much experience, do you?"

"Well, considering I graduated high school, attended college, and earned my Ph.D. all well before I could even vote, one could say that I 'missed out' on teenage sexual experiences," Sheldon said, glancing down at his and Penny's joined hands. "I wouldn't say it, but one could."

"Have you ever thought about dating? Or, who you could see yourself dating?" Penny asked, hoping to allow Sheldon to comfortably discover if he was attracted to either gender.

"I assume the basic principles of dating apply, regardless of what sex or gender one's partner is," Sheldon asked no one. "Well, I value intelligence, wit, hard work, science, and someone who does not need perpetual reassurance about his appearance or intellect." Sheldon's shoulder's slumped slightly. "That narrows it down to myself and Dr. Richard Hawking."

"HIS!" Penny exclaimed, nearly jumping out of her seat, "You said '_his_ appearance'! That means you think about guys!"

Sheldon froze and mentally reviewed what he had said.

"Will you look at that," he said, "You're right. I think about men when I consider who an ideal mate would be."

"Meaning…" Penny egged on, smiling at the positive turn things had taken.

"Meaning I must be subconsciously attracted to men, or male-identified individuals." Sheldon allowed himself a smile, something that did not happen with too much frequency.

"YAY!" Penny squealed. She flung her arms around Sheldon's thin frame, wrapping them tight and squeezing. "Sheldon, I'm so happy for you!"

"This is excellent!" Sheldon agreed. His face suddenly fell, becoming a mask of horror and worry. "Oh, no…"

"What?" Penny wondered, releasing him and sitting back so she could look at his face.

"Oh, no!"

"What, Sheldon? What is it?"

"_Oh, no!_ This is terrible!"

Penny was confused. Sheldon seemed to have happily accepted his new identity as a gay man, but his reaction now threw everything off. Something was greatly troubling him. Was it the fact that he was gay? Was he not comfortable with this?

"What's wrong?" she asked. Penny hoped Sheldon accepted himself. She was willing to do whatever it took for him to feel no different than he felt before the epiphany they shared tonight.

Sheldon's tongue darted out of parted lips, licking the thin lines. He was parched, and his hands felt clammy. Clammier than usual.

"How will I tell Amy Farrah Fowler?"


End file.
